


Road to Somewhere

by SuburbanSun



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, Post-Season 4, Road Trips, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-20 20:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: A roadtrip to pick up new beeswax candles for the store isn't exactly what it seems.





	Road to Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cjmarlowe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmarlowe/gifts).



“So, these beeswax candles,” Patrick says as the car zooms past the Now Leaving Schitt’s Creek sign. “They must really be something else.”

In the passenger seat, David doesn’t look up from his phone, just hums in acknowledgement.

“You know, to be worth the four and a half hour drive to Cedarton. And back.” He bites his lip and glimpses David out of the corner of his eye. “And to require _both_ of us to pick up the order-- we must be stocking a ton of these candles, huh?"

“Mmhmm, well, I have a feeling they’re going to be _very_ popular,” David says absentmindedly. “Ha! Found it.” He taps the screen of his phone before setting it down in the cupholder, and an Al Green song starts playing through the car speakers. David lets his head fall back against the seat and gives Patrick a lazy half-smile. “The perfect road trip playlist.”

Patrick smiles back at him-- he does like this song, after all, and he likes when David looks at him that way even more-- and taps out a rhythm on the steering wheel. The flimsy reasoning behind their road trip is still bugging him, though, and he can’t quite let it go. “It’s just, placing a massive order for an untested product sounds a _tad_ risky, don’t you think?”

David does something funny with his mouth, something Patrick recognizes but can’t quite identify. “Not if the beekeeper has excellent word-of-mouth.”

A moment goes by as Patrick debates whether or not to say what he suspects, what he’s suspected ever since David texted him early that morning to say they’d be closing the store for the day to pick up a batch of inventory. “There _are_ no beeswax candles, are there?”

David scoffs, but there’s a noticeable lack of confidence behind it. “Yes, Patrick, there certainly are beeswax candles… in the world.”

“What about in Cedarton?” Patrick asks, his eyebrows raised. David presses his lips together, narrowing his eyes.

“Probably in Cedarton as well, I’m sure.”

“Ha!” He slaps his palm against the steering wheel in vindication. “I knew it. There is no massive order of beeswax candles for the store.”

“Ah… not to speak of, no.”

“So what’s in Cedarton? If that’s even where we’re going; you’re the one who put the address into the GPS, so lord only knows where you’re taking me.”

“Mm, but what Cedarton lacks in beeswax, it makes up for in this really rustic little bed and breakfast that has middling reviews but is very affordable.”

Patrick turns his head to look at David, still keeping one eye on the road. He’s a little awestruck. “You’re taking me to a bed and breakfast?”

David shrugs, averting his gaze like he’s a little embarrassed at the idea. “Technically, _you’re_ taking me there, since you’re driving.”

“I didn’t pack anything,” Patrick says after a beat. “I thought this was just a daytrip, so I didn’t bring a change of clothes, or a toothbrush, or anything.”

“I, ah. May have stopped by Ray’s while you were at the gym last night, so. You know, the sheer number of blue button-downs in your closet is frankly worrisome.”

“Says the man with the overabundance of black and white sweaters.”

“Touché,” David says, but he’s suppressing a smile. “So, yes, you have clothes and dental hygiene products and that artisan lavender shave cream from the store that you like so much--”

“-- that _you_ like so much,” Patrick interjects. The shave cream is fine, but every time he uses it, David finds little excuses to nuzzle against his cheek and the side of his neck to breathe in the scent, and _that’s_ what Patrick likes.

“The point is, everything you need for a night away is in a bag in the trunk.” David rubs his palms over his artfully paint-splattered jeans that probably cost more than all of Patrick’s blue button-downs combined. “And before you ask, yes, we have a reservation. And no, sadly, there is neither an on-site spa _nor_ sauna. I checked. But other than that regrettable fact, everything is completely under control.”

His voice belies the idea that David feels in control, though, and Patrick reaches over to take his hand, loosely linking their fingers together and resting them on David’s knee. “This is-- thank you,” he says. He feels a little overwhelmed, himself. His boyfriend has planned a romantic overnight getaway for the two of them. That’s not something that the Patrick of a couple years ago would have ever thought possible.

“You know, it’s really not that nice, according to the TripAdvisor reviews,” says David. “The breakfast was described by TravelMom163 as ‘adequate.’ And I mean, anyone with beds and eggs can call themselves a ‘charmingly rustic bed and breakfast’. Who’s to say it’s any nicer than the Rosebud?”

Patrick chuckles. “Since our room won’t feature such luxurious amenities as ‘your sister in the next bed’ and ‘your parents sleeping behind the thinnest walls I’ve ever encountered in my life’, I’m pretty positive it will be nicer than the Rosebud.”

David’s grip tightens on Patrick’s hand. “Maybe we should just turn around. This is stupid.”

“David, David, David--” Patrick glances in the rearview mirror, and when he sees the coast is clear, he pulls onto the shoulder and puts the car in park. He shifts in his seat as best he can to face David, taking in his tense shoulders and tight grimace. “What’s going on? Why would we turn around? I’m sure the breakfast is more than adequate.”

“TravelMom also called the eggs ‘slightly underdone.’” He lets go of Patrick’s hand and presses his fingertips to his temples. “I’m openly exposing you to salmonella. You know what, we shouldn’t just turn around, we should alert the health department to the goings-on at the Cedarton Inn.” He raises his eyebrows to emphasize his point. “Someone could be killed.”

Patrick takes both of David’s hands and clutches them to his chest, forcing David to turn toward him. He’s learned by now that most of David’s irrational worries have a reason buried underneath, and he just has to do a little digging. “You know I have a strong stomach. I’m willing to risk the eggs.”

“Well, if the entire population of Cedarton dies of salmonella poisoning, that blood will be on our hands.”

“I think it’s really nice that you booked us a bed and breakfast for the night. We’ve never been away together before,” Patrick notes, letting their clasped hands drop to his lap. “It sounds like a really fun, relaxing trip. So, why are you stressed out?”

David looks up at the roof of the car and breathes out through his nose. “I’m really quite skilled at stressing out for no reason, don’t you think?”

Patrick smiles fondly. “Yes, you are. But I think there’s a reason.”

His gaze returning to Patrick’s as his eyes narrow, David lets out a little groan. “It’s possible that I’ve never been on a romantic bed and breakfast getaway with anyone before.”

“Me either,” Patrick says, then catches himself. “Well, not with-- not with a guy, at least.”

“Mmhmm. It’s just, I didn’t say I’ve never _planned_ a romantic bed and breakfast getaway with anyone before.” He bites the corner of his lip. “The other person just… didn’t show up. Twice. And shockingly, eating breakfast for one at the table next to the Beckhams in a semi-private dining room in Vail is not exactly relaxing.”

Not for the first time, anger flares in Patrick’s belly at all the jerks from David’s previous life. He’s never been much of a fighter, but he sometimes thinks he’d throw a punch or two, if he ever had the misfortune of meeting them. “Is that why you didn’t tell me where we were going until we were on the road? Because you thought I might not want to go with you?”

“I didn’t really-- _think_ that, exactly,” says David. “But old habits die hard, I guess.”

Patrick lets go of David’s hands and reaches up to frame his face with both palms. “Whoever did that to you-- both times-- they were assholes.”

“I’ve realized most of the people I used to associate with were assholes, actually. It’s kind of a running theme in my life.”

“I love you, David.”

David’s expression softens, and the corners of his mouth quirk up in a smile. “I love you, too,” he replies quietly.

“So believe me when I say, I will never stand you up at a bed and breakfast in Cedarton, or anywhere else.” Patrick slides his hands down to David’s shoulders, squeezing gently before letting him go. “In fact, we’re going to make this the best, most romantic bed and breakfast getaway Cedarton’s ever seen.”

For a moment, David just looks at him, his lips pursed and his eyes warm. “Okay, well, that’s not saying a lot, since TravelMom163 called their ambient lighting ‘harsh and unforgiving.’”

“Mmhmm.” Patrick shifts the car into drive and pulls back onto the highway. “We’re going to romance circles around TravelMom.”

“I don’t know, she and her husband Gary certainly seem to frequent the bed and breakfast circuit of southern Canada.”

“TravelMom’s not going to know what hit her.”

When they pull into the gravel parking lot at the Cedarton Inn, it’s immediately evident that ‘charmingly rustic’ is a bit of a stretch. The sign is missing its last letter (“Wonder what, exactly, the Cedarton is _in_?” asks David as they retrieve their bags from the trunk, earning a look of fond admonishment from Patrick). When they check in, the elderly man at the front desk first can’t find their reservation, then when he finally does, shows them to a room with two twin beds. (“Well, you’re used to a twin, at least. So it’s not exactly a _down_ grade,” says Patrick after the man leaves them alone in their room.) Dinner is burnt, and breakfast the next morning is inedible.

“You know, the reviews really didn’t do this place justice,” Patrick says as he wanders out the inn’s back entrance. David is slumped in an Adirondack chair on the dismal excuse for a patio, clutching an open box of cereal to his chest. He puts a handful of it in his mouth, then offers the box to Patrick, who takes it and settles into the chair next to David’s.

“Watch out; it’s stale,” David says around a mouthful of Cap’n Crunch. Patrick chuckles, but still reaches in for a handful. For a long moment, they sit side by side in their chairs, chewing silently and taking in the view (which really just amounts to a smattering of trees and an old swingset).

“Sorry this trip was such a disappointment,” David says at last. “I mean, this isn’t exactly the romantic vista I had in mind,” he adds, gesturing in front of them. He tilts his head up and sniffs, wrinkling his nose at the smell. “And I think someone’s burning tires.”

After a pause, Patrick digs in the pocket of his jeans for his phone. He unlocks it and pulls up his web browser, then hands it to David. “Looks like there’s a new TripAdvisor review.”

David takes the phone and reads aloud. “BaseballFan522 says: ‘My boyfriend took me to the Cedarton Inn on a surprise getaway, and it was everything I could have asked for-- a quiet place to spend time with the person I care about most. 5/5 stars, would recommend to a friend or acquaintance.’” He swings his gaze to Patrick and tsks his reproach, but his eyes are a tad misty. “Now that’s just misleading.”

“But true.” He takes his phone back. “All I care about is getting to spend time with you.”

“Me too,” David says softly. He reaches out a hand, and Patrick takes it. They’re quiet for a beat, before David speaks up: “So tell me, is this the very _first_ review BaseballFan522 has posted?”

Patrick laughs. “Oh, no. There’s a long history of recommendations on there, plus a few scathing critiques. Like that seafood place in Elmdale that gave you food poisoning? Zero stars.”

“Mm. Lots of reading material for the ride home, then.”

Patrick can tell David’s planning to tease him as much as possible-- about his username, about being the type of person who leaves online reviews, about all of it-- but he just grins. “I stand by every one of ‘em."

“Oh yeah?”

“Especially this one. The Cedarton Inn might even make BaseballFan522’s top ten list at the end of the year.”

David smirks. “Sounds like I should let you plan the next romantic getaway.”

Patrick watches David as he pops another piece of stale Cap’n Crunch into his mouth. Warmth blooms in his chest; he thinks about all the romantic getaways that lay ahead of them, a future filled with ramshackle B&Bs and daytrips down dusty country roads-- and someday, maybe even something a bit nicer.

He smiles. “Gladly.”


End file.
